


Brink

by twentyone



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Sad, response to zerrie engagement, unfinished work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:13:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyone/pseuds/twentyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam's thoughts on Zayn's engagement to Perrie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brink

**Author's Note:**

> hey so this is unfinished, I just kinda wrote it quickly today and I can't seem to finish it...any ideas?

Liam told himself he would have the last straw, but that did not stop him from being blinded by the harsh shine of the huge rock on Perrie’s finger.

 

They did everything with twice as much passion than should be normal. Obviously, they weren’t normal, so in a way it was fitting. And they always managed to end up at square one after every incident, to keep from permanently harming each other and to keep the band stable and in place. When they fought it affected all five of them – Harry would usually side with Liam, Louis with Zayn, and Niall the calm presence in the midst of the terrifying emotional hurricane. They fought viciously, and almost always with words, solely because everyone knew that Liam could throttle Zayn in less than a minute and that would not be good press. They fought with words because each knew the other better than anyone, because they knew which words would cause each other the most pain and hate and humiliation. They fucked with equal strength and fervor, Liam driving into Zayn’s writhing body restlessly after a particularly good or bad concert, Zayn shoving Liam against a wall in some closet in some city and wrapping his mouth around Liam’s cock like it was born to do so. Sometimes they would do the two things at the same time, hiss insults at each other while Zayn pinched Liam’s nipples harshly or Liam bit Zayn’s neck so hard that he would have to cover the bruise with concealer the next day. But they always returned to the middle ground, eventually, and the rest of the band breathed easier when the muffled shouts and curses were no longer heard from the hotel room next door.

 

Nobody could tell, Liam thought, just by looking at them. The reporters, the interviewers, the journalists and the fans and even his family, none of them were able to see through their thin façade of easy smiles and tackle hugs, they did not know what happened between Liam and Zayn behind closed doors. No one knew what Zayn looked like when he was angry, really really angry, shouting things like ‘fucking introvert’ or ‘at least I’m not pretending to care for Perrie’, how his eyes narrowed in hurt and his back hunched over when Liam retorted with ‘you can go shave your fucking balls for all I care.’ No one heard the sounds Zayn made when Liam slapped his arse, hard, no one knew the way the 2 am shadows danced over his bare back as he knelt on his knees and forearms, spread out and vulnerable and taking everything Liam had to give him with low growls and murmurs of ‘yes, oh god, yes’. To everyone else they were Liam and Zayn, best mates, the sensible smart one and the mysterious brooding one. But late at night, when Zayn came back inside after a cigarette or Liam stumbled half-drunkenly into the room with a bottle of Grey Goose clenched in his hand, they became liamandzayn, the destroyers, the wreakers of havoc, tearing out each others throats before patching up the holes with a shower fuck or hasty handjob on the couch.

 

These periods of escalated emotion were triggered by many things; sometimes a nasty article about Zayn set him off on a rampage of cursing that led to Liam being gagged by his cock. Other times it was management telling Liam that he and Sophia had to be seen more often in public, there wasn’t enough press about the two of them, and Liam would barrel into Zayn’s room and chuck a lamp at the wall that was half-heartedly aimed at Zayn’s head. But most of the time, it was Perrie.

 

Zayn loved her, for one thing. That was one of the things he liked to scream into Liam’s face, ‘I love her, only her, nobody else. It’s not you. It will never be you.’ She was beautiful, and she was sweet and funny, which made it worse. It would have been so much easier if Liam could hate Perrie, he could have an excuse, he could yell back at Zayn, ‘she’s a bitch, she’s a fucking cunt, do you even have fucking standards?’ but no, he couldn’t say that because Perrie had done nothing wrong and it was impossible not to like her. Zayn knew that she was Liam’s weakness, he knew the jealously Liam felt seeing the two of them holding hands out in public simply because they could. So Liam had gotten himself Sophia, in hopes that Zayn would see that two could play that game. Liam hadn’t been able to walk straight the day after the first photos of him and Sophia surfaced the web.

 

They brought out the worst in each other, without question. Liam overheard Louis telling Harry one day how he had never seen Zayn so hot and bothered as when he was around Liam, how much clearer and stronger his voice sounded after a night of sweaty skin and screaming, how Liam was the only one who brought him to life like this. It made him proud, knowing that he owned some part of Zayn. And that pride was disgusting, because Liam was a good stable sensible person who wasn’t supposed to gain pleasure from another’s torment. Or be on the receiving end of equal torment from that same person. Liam was a good stable sensible person who turned possessive and lusty and animalistic around Zayn, whose soul was racked to the very core whenever he saw Zayn with Perrie. Was he supposed to feel guilty because of this? Was he supposed to be happy for Zayn? How could he be, knowing the effect that he alone had on the older boy? Zayn never painted torturous pictures after a night with Perrie, never woke up gasping for breath in the middle of the night because of a nightmare in which he lost Perrie, his eyes never sparkled with the same vigor for her as they did for him. It terrified Liam, how low he would sink to hurt Zayn, how he would do anything to please him while wanting to tear him apart from the inside the same way that Zayn was slowly destroying him, piece by piece.

 

Liam told himself he would have the last straw, but Zayn had crossed the unspoken boundaries of their relationship with that stupid ring. The tattoo, that had been forgiveable. But the ring was something else. (As if it would make a difference to Liam, whether or not they were married or just sleeping together. It shouldn’t make a difference. Zayn and him were never going to be that, anyway, and Perrie was the obvious choice. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. It really really did.)  
He noted how Harry and Louis and Niall watched him out of the corners of their eyes on the red carpet, waiting to see how he would take the news. He did not meet their concerned gazes. He smiled and took pictures and answered questions and didn’t give Zayn so much as a glance throughout the entire evening. Always, Liam had fought back. Every time Zayn got off the phone with her Liam was there, pressing him down into the mattress, asking him in deadly whispers, ‘who will it be tonight? Me, or her?’ to which Zayn would always stutter out in heady pants, ‘you, you, oh god, only you.’ But no. Not this time. Zayn’s knife had finally found its mark, twisted itself into Liam’s heart and made it impossible for him to breathe in Zayn’s proximity for fear of breaking apart and begging him to fuck Liam senseless and remind him that it would always be to him that Zayn would return at the end of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> once again, I'm open to any and all suggestions on how to finish this! thanks for reading :)


End file.
